


cake batter (one direction)

by haroldgay



Category: One Direction
Genre: Fandom, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroldgay/pseuds/haroldgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harryxlouis. slash (the guitarist) makes a cameo, as does one of my real life friends (not the one i wrote the story for) i wrote this for a friend for her birthday a few years ago when i wasn't really a fan of one direction but then another friend made me buy four and midnight memories and i had a dream harry styles was my boyfriend so i'm in too deep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cake batter (one direction)

**Author's Note:**

> none of this is real obviously idk what do people normally put here
> 
> just a fair warning: this is truly terrible

The Saturday morning dawns upon Harry Styles in a tangled mess of sheets and sunshine. It’s 10am and as his senses awaken the outside world becomes clearer. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and smooths the hair from his head. He fell asleep early last night- phone in hand. He was texting Louis and somehow managed to send goodnight, my prince. I’m falling asleep before his eyes finally closed for the night. The bands last tour had finally finished, but the exhaustion still followed Harry like a hound.

He checks his phone now, and a text from his boyfriend blinks unread at him. Sweet dreams Harry. A smile spreads across his face and his body swarms with happiness.

It’s another few minutes before he can drag himself out of bed, pulling on underwear before walking down the hall to the bathroom in case his dad is awake. The hot water sweeps over his body and spreads a sense of consciousness through his bones. He feels refreshed. The after effects of touring are slowly leaving him.

In the steam on the mirror he writes Harry and Louis in a heart while humming a tune he’s been working on in his spare moments. He wraps a towel tight around his waist after drying his hair and body. The sunlight shining through windows warms his shoulders as he walks back to his room. He finds clean appearing pyjama pants and a singlet and throws them on before stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Hey buddy,” says Slash, his dad. As Harry slides into a stool on the breakfast bar his dad slides him a plate of banana pancakes. He has his long, ringlets pulled back into a ponytail.

“Hey Dad,” his son replies. Slash hands him a knife and fork and Harry digs in.

“What’s your plan for the day?”

Through a mouthful of food Harry replies, “Louis is coming over.”

Slash nods thoughtfully. “I’m going to the studio, so no sex on the couch, okay?”

Aghast, Harry chokes on his latest mouthful, spluttering with panic and embarrassment. His father comes around the breakfast bar and pats him on the back while his son recovers. “See ya later bud,” he says before leaving the room.

“Bye Dad,” Harry managed before succumbing to more coughs. He grabs himself a glass of water, drenching his aching throat. He finishes his breakfast quickly, buzzing with the excitement of seeing Louis again. Although they work together as two out of five members of One Direction, spending most of their days together, it’s rare when the two of them have time just to themselves. A tour bus isn’t the most romantic setting, after all.

Harry rinses his place, brushes his teeth, and then sits himself in front of the television. Nothing exciting is on at this time in the day, but the excitement racing from his fingers through his arms, into his heart, and all through his veins keeps him from boredom. The screen in front of him may as well be blank; he’s not taking anything in. His phone buzzes and the message comes to the screen seemingly on its own: On my way, babe. Aj’s giving me a ride. His excitement reaches a peak and his legs seem to shiver on their own.

The time flies quickly and it seems that within minutes there’s a knock on the door. Harry leaps up, tripping over the hem of his overly long pyjama pants. He fumbles for the doorknob as it slips through his desperate fingers, but manages to pull it open. Before him stands Louis, smiling like paradise, and Aj, who scowls ever so slightly.

“Hey babe,” Louis says, and Harry’s grinning face widens, causing it to ache.

“Hey.” Louis’ eyes sparkle.

“Larry Stylinson isn’t real!” Aj huffs before storming off back to her car.

“Thanks for the ride,” Louis calls out after her.

“Whatever, asshole,” she yells back without turning around. Her car door slams as Louis steps through the threshold into the house.

They hug, bodies clinging to each other. Louis’ arms are like fire around Harry’s body. “I missed you,” Louis says into his boyfriend’s ear. “It’s so weird not sleeping in the same bunk as you anymore.

“I know,” Harry replies. “I wake up most nights wishing you were there. At least I don’t have to wear clothes when I sleep now.”

Louis pulls back from the hug a bit so they’re face to face. He giggles, giving Harry an eskimo kiss. Everything about Louis is warmth: his skin against Harry’s, his hair in the sun, the beat of his pulse in the middle of the night. “You don’t have to wear clothes when we’re in the bunk either.”

Harry slips away from the Eskimo kiss into a real kiss that sends fireworks radiating across his cheeks. “Yeah but I don’t want to hear Niall scream if he accidently sees my dick,” he says after pulling away. They kiss again.

Louis giggles again, then frees an arm and closes the door behind him. “What are we doing today?” he asks.

“Whatever we want,” Harry replies, leading him by the arm into the lounge. “We have the house to ourselves. Although, Dad did say no sex on the couch.”

“Aw, bummer,” Louis replies jokingly as they sit down. Louis takes off his shoes and then leans into Harry so his head is on his chest. The way they’re sitting allows Harry to wrap a leg around Louis as they snuggle into each other, getting comfortable. “I’ve missed using you as a pillow.”

“I’ve missed it too,” Harry replies. He runs a hand through Louis’ hair, massaging his scalp. “It’s so weird not being with you 24/7.”

“Best make up for lost time.”

Harry kisses Louis’ scalp. “If you put a DVD on I’ll reward you with kisses,” he suggests.

Louis chortles, and pivots so he’s facing Harry. “You just want an excuse to make out with me, right?”

Harry smirks. “That could be it, or I just really want to watch a movie.”

“I’m betting my money on the first option,” Louis says, bringing his face close to Harry’s.

“Bingo.”

Louis’ lips aren’t necessarily soft, but they have a plumpness that to Harry is even better. They’re a little chapped, but they taste sweet. Their hands have minds of their own as they roam each other for the first time in weeks. It’s not as if they don’t know each other’s anatomy well by now, but they feel the need to re-establish a connection. There’s passion, but no sexual intent, although Harry feels a certain want for it.

Louis pulls away after an indistinguishable amount of minutes. “I should probably put that DVD on now.”

“Or we could break my Dad’s rule?” Harry jests, fully knowing neither want that right now.

“Do you have anything new?” Louis asks, disentangling himself from Harry’s legs. His skinny jeans are taunt across his legs and pelvis.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know, but I feel like I should lend you some pj pants because those look like they’ll get super uncomfortable.”

“If you want; I’m not bothered,” Louis replies, rifling through the DVDs stacked beside the TV.

“I’ll be right back,” Harry says. He gets up from the couch and almost runs to the stairs. For Louis, he pulls a definitely clean pair of pyjama pants from a draw in his dresser, throwing himself back down the stairs and into the lounge. “Here,” he offers his boyfriend, who sits in front of the DVD weighing the options.

“Thanks babe,” he says, as Harry sits down in front of him. “The Hobbit or Wreck It Ralph?”

“Either,” Harry replies.

“So helpful,” Louis replies, dripping with cynicism.

“Put them behind you back and do that swappy thing and I’ll choose right or left.”

“Okay.” Louis grabs both cases and fumbles around our of Harry’s sight for a while. When he stops moving Harry points at his right side, unknowingly choosing The Hobbit. “I wanna watch Wreck It Ralph,” Louis complains and Harry complies. He spends very little time actually watching the movie; instead his fingers are combing through Louis’ hair, or he’s simply staring at his face. He feels bliss. Louis’ jeans lay crumpled on the floor by the couch, and between the fabric of their pyjamas Harry can feel the warmth of Louis’ legs. He feels at home.

When the movie finishes Louis once again turns to face Harry, looking up at him while he stretches his arms and legs out like opposing ends of a compass. He then puts his hands on the back of Harry’s neck. “I like that movie.”

“I like you more,” Harry says. They kiss. While they were last touring the other three boys, Niall, Zayn, and Liam, would make faces and joke whenever they so much as held hands. During concerts they shared looks and joked around, not just the couple, but the whole band. Louis and Harry aren’t overly public about their relationship, but not because they don’t want the public to know; only because they don’t see how it concerns the general public. Besides, they don’t have the backlash from people who would view them as a couple negatively. It’s a plus, although they can’t spend much time together in public as they’d like. The joys of celebrity life. Still, they can share days like this together; days of utmost bliss and happiness.

“Let’s bake a cake,” Louis suggests.

“Okay.” They clamber off of the couch, smoothing their crumpled clothes. Harry leads Louis to the kitchen and they search for a recipe book and ingredients. Louis spends more putting flour on Harry’s nose than contributing to the cake, but they both laugh the entire time. When it’s in the oven they’re both covered in debris: Harry’s entire face is covered in flour, while Louis has cake mixture all through his hair.

“I’m gonna go take a shower and wash this out,” he says, kissing Harry before slipping out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Harry starts washing up after wiping the flour from his face. The kitchen is a mess. Bowls and mixing spoons lay cluttered over the bench, while more flour than seems possible lines the cupboards and walls. He begins to wet a cloth when he hears a blood curdling scream reverberate throughout the entire house. “Louis?” he calls out, concerned.

His feet thud as loudly as he runs up the stairs. His heart pounds in his ears like the roar of a crowd. Fear laces itself through his limbs as he uncertainly reaches the bathroom. The door is locked and the knob rattles under his grip. “Louis?” He screams over the sound of running water. “Are you okay?”

Several large thuds and the sound of wet skin sliding against glass are his only response. Uselessly, he rattles the doorknob again. He tries to bust it open by throwing all of his force against it like in the movies, but it proves to be useless, only giving him a sore shoulder.  
“Louis?!” He hears a feminine scream and more thuds followed by a desperate cry of, “Help!” It sounds as if Louis was going to say more but he was cut off. The thuds are continuous now.

Adrenalin sets in as Harry tries to break open the door again. It seems like hours pass, but the only thought going through his mind is saving Louis. Suddenly he hears a metallic click and realises that somehow the door has been unlocked. He bursts into the room and sees a wet, naked, Louis being dragged back by an exasperated, also wet, Aj, wielding a knife. Her glasses are askew and there’s a panic in her eyes.

Louis has tiny cuts and the occasional gash over his arms and chests, freshly bleeding, where the knife has grazed over his skin. The shower head has been un-mounted and is spraying water all over the floor and the struggling teens. Louis looks exposed and vulnerable while Aj appears frenzied and insane.

Harry leaps into the fray, slipping and sliding over the glistening floor. He grabs Aj’s wielding arm, somehow managing upright despite the wet. Aj screams at him while Louis slides himself backwards towards the now open doorway. “What are you doing?!” Harry screams while holding Aj’s arm away from him, knife pointed dangerously close, while Louis crawls further back to safety.

“She tried to kill me!” the distressed boy calls out. Panic is strewn across his face and his breathing is the evidence of turmoil and fear.

“If I can’t have him no-one can,” Aj roars through clenched teeth. She doesn’t look it, but she’s strong. Her arm bears closer to Harry, the knife centimetres away from his face.

“Louis call the police!” Harry calls out, without looking away from the knife. “The phone’s in the living room.

“Okay!” Harry can hear Louis scrambling up and away out of the bathroom; his footsteps loudly emit through the hallway as he descends the stairs.

Harry is drenched now- his clothes are more a hindrance as they hang soggy from his wiry frame. Watered down blood leaks across the floor, sticking to his pyjama pants and to Aj’s saturated jeans.

“You won’t get away with this,” Harry says through clenched teeth. His grip is slowly slipping, his muscles beginning to ache. Aj shows no sign of strain other than the anger painted onto her face.

“I almost got him!” she screams in frustration. “He’s stronger than he looks.” She manages to slip away from him, changing her weight onto her back leg and slipping out of his grip. “This isn’t over,” she snarls as she slips out the window, while Harry stands in evident shock. “I’ll be back.” Her vow ominously rings in Harry’s ears until Louis appears in the doorway, naked, bloody, and dripping with the last dregs of his shower.

They’re both in shock, pale faced and shaking. “Harry?” Louis’ voice is gentle. Harry spins around and steps over the drenched floor embracing the other man. Tears are in his eyes. They hold each other close.

“It’s okay,” Harry says, pulling away after what seems like far too long, but not enough. He shuts off the shower finally, and a silence settles over them, chilling- more so than the water clinging to them both.

“The police should be here soon,” Louis says. He’s still trembling. His once clean clothes lay in the pool of blood and water at their feet, totally ruined. Harry’s brain finally fully processes the cuts all over his boyfriend’s torso and arms.

“You’re hurt,” he croaks, rushing forward, panicking.

“It’s okay,” Louis reassures him, “They’re not deep. I can’t even feel them.”

“You need clothes, and a new towel,” Harry says. “I’ll get some plasters too.”

“You’re drenched too,” Louis says. “Your pants look ruined. I’ll get clothes from your room for us both.” He goes to leave the room but Harry grabs his hand, pulling him back.  
“What if she comes back?” he asks quietly, fear plainly across his face. He seems more shaken, more concerned.

Louis shakes his head. “She won’t. She knows the police are on the way. It’ll be okay. I promise.” He hugs Harry yet again, holding him tight. “If it makes you feel better we can go and get everything together, okay?”

“Okay.”

By the time Harry has carefully put plasters on the worst of the tiny cuts on Louis’ chest, and they’ve both dried themselves off, putting on track pants and t-shirts, the police have arrived. They left their sodden clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and sat awaiting the police on the couch downstairs, holding each other tight. Harry was still scared, but the warmth from Louis made him feel all okay.


End file.
